Easy to avoid facing what I’d felt when she’d stood between them like that’s where she belonged while I burned alone.
My fire flickered hotter. The guard beside me shifted away slightly.
The Shroud Guard is still being vetted, Commander Voss said, his Shroud Guard tattoo bright on his neck. We’ve identified twelve compromised members so far. Another thirty are under investigation. Until we know who we can trust, our tactical resources are limited.
Which is why we’re deploying the heirs, my father said. They’ve proven themselves trustworthy. They’ve demonstrated combined magical effectiveness. And frankly, we have no one else with their capabilities who we’re certain isn’t compromised.
So that was it. Not strategic assets—just the last ones standing.
We’ve started assisting with the vetting process, Captain Parker said.
That was why we were being deployed instead of the guard. It wasn’t just that the ranks were compromised. It was the fact they only fully trusted one person to clear them, working through thirty-plus cases, and she couldn’t be everywhere.
Marigold shifted beside Keane, her shoulders squaring like she was about to push back.
Father didn’t let her.
The decision’s been made, he said, his voice cutting clean through the room. The master is striking on multiple fronts. We need coverage the four of you cannot provide from a single location.
Scout’s tiny frame stiffened against her shoulder, mirroring the flicker of resistance in her spine.
So we’re weapons now? I asked. Strategic assets to deploy wherever the council decides?
Father’s amber eyes met mine. You’re heirs. This is what leadership requires.
The weight of that settled over the room.
Raven’s corruption timeline suggests months of preparation, Keane explained, his voice measured despite the tension radiating from Marigold beside him. She was showing signs as early as mid-semester last term.
Months, Marigold said quietly. The guilt in her voice made something twist in my chest. She was suffering for months, and none of us noticed.
I wanted to cross the room, tell her it wasn’t her fault, pull her close and make that guilt disappear, but I couldn’t.
The master’s methodology is clear, Elio added. He targets witches who are emotionally isolated, magically sensitive, and positioned near someone he wants to reach.
And the corrupted wellsprings? Lady Hartwell asked.
Synchronized, Keane said. Seventeen wellsprings across six continents, all corrupted within a three-hour window last November. This isn’t opportunistic. It’s ritual positioning. He’s building something that spans the globe.
Which we don’t have time to fully understand, Father said. Because while we’re analyzing patterns, he’s moving. Building his network. Corrupting more witches. Preparing whatever endgame he’s planned.
He pulled up deployment orders—official and already drafted.
Elio and Cyrus will track Raven’s trail into the Alps, Father said, tapping the table with two fingers. Fire power for combat. Illusion detection for identifying corrupted targets and seeing through deception. You’ll gather intelligence on the master’s European operations and attempt extraction if possible.
Keane and Marigold remain at Wickem. Corruption monitoring—students, staff, ley line readings from campus. Keane’s portal network keeps our intelligence coordinated across regions. Marigold’s necromantic sensitivity gives us early warning if the master moves against the wellspring or the student population again. And if we lock down, I need portal capacity on site.
The military precision was flawless. The tactical logic sound.
And it made me want to burn something down.
Portal to a secure location in Europe—Paris, most likely, Keane said quietly, already calculating logistics. Then mundane transport from there. He paused. Direct portals would be too conspicuous. The master would sense the magical signature and know we’re coming.
Plus I need Keane here, Father added. He’s been coordinating intelligence from six continents, mapping infected wellsprings, and maintaining communication networks. His portal network is the only thing keeping our defensive response coordinated.
Two weeks away from Marigold. Two weeks trusting others to keep her safe while I was halfway around the world.
Aurora was still safely with family. I’d confirmed that this morning. Lucas was recovering under guard supervision. But Marigold would be here, at Wickem, where the master had already proven he could strike.
